Cheaters
by blank82
Summary: CHEAT: 1. to act dishonestly 2. to violate rules delibrately, as in a game. 3. to be sexually unfaithful.


12:51 am. A curious time for a phone call. And Logan hadn't hesitated to tell her so.

"Tell that to the telemarkers," was her uneasy reply as she slid under the covers, settling stiffly beside him, "Do you think we could… not do anything tonight? I'm kind of tired."

He forced a chuckle, not bothering to inform her that conversations with telemarkers usually didn't require an hour long conversation muffled by the security of the bathroom door. Nor did he tell her that he wasn't really as asleep as he appeared to be when she sneaked out half an hour later for the grand total of 2 hours, arriving home smelling like cheap cologne and the undeniable tinge of cigarette smoke.

He didn't tell her about the girl he picked up and screwed when she called the next day and told him she was going to have to cancel their plans either. He didn't even protest when she asked for money 'to buy some stuff for a friend.'

Of course he confronted her. More than once, actually. Questioning her aboutthe late night outings and her new friend. His interrogations got him nowhere though, seeing she was denying everything.

"Just trust me, Logan," she said finally, exasperated with his cross-examination.

"Trust is overrated."

"That's not what you told me at the Life-and-Death-Brigade."

Funny how quickly roles change. He had his share of encounters with ex-bedfellows' boyfriends. Paranoid and possessive, he often wondered why the hell they put themselves through all the commitment crap. He knew now. The sense of possession is overbearing. The childish urge to hang on to whatever shred of control you could get your hands on. Much like how a 5 year old refuses to let other children play with his favorite toy. Because sharing really isn't caring. You only trust yourself to share something you could afford to lose.

He took this as a sign that he cared for her. That despite the fact he was going off to screw whores on a weekly basis, he was obligated to her relationship. Their relationship that was crumbling and seeping through his fingers like sand with every lie that bled through her lips and every giggling whore he took to his Porsche and paid to keep their mouths shut.

He wasn't exactly sure how she found out. He had a sinking suspicion it was either Finn or Colin, both of which who had taken a friendly liking to her and were more than a little insistent that he stop treating her like crap.

But that wasn't important, all he cared was that she knew now. And there was really nothing left to do but defend his case.

She wasn't crying. That made it easier. He could tell it was taking every last fiber in her body to refrain from smacking him across the face with the lampshade, but she wasn't crying. Not even when she asked him why he did it. What the hell she did was so bad to make him feel obligated to go off and fuck other girls every Friday night.

"Just returning the favor," he replied coldly.

Her confusion was quickly replaced by realization when it struck her what he was referring to. She groaned. More in disbelief than angst, "I told you to trust me, Logan! Why—god!" He didn't like how she was looking at him at the moment. Like he was the biggest idiot in the world. And seeing the situation so far, he could pretty safely say he probably was.

She was talking at warp speed now, "His name is Jess. You met him before. I don't know how much you remember considering you were butt-drunk half the entire time. But I'll have you know, his mom died a couple weeks ago. He needed someone to be there for him. I'm sure you know the feeling."

He did. "Oh."

For a second, he really thought she was going to punch him. But changed his mind when he saw her lip start to tremble. The only sign of weakness on her part throughout this whole tirade, "Yeah, _oh_," She responded bitterly.

"So," he shifted uncomfortably, scratching the top of his head. Feeling very much like a kid who had just been caught trailing mud on the carpet, "What now?"

She caught his gaze, catching him off guard with the sudden intensity of her eyes, "You cheated on me," she replied bluntly. She stated this as a fact. Cemented firmly into the groundwork no matter how much you want it not to be true.

"I thought you were having sex with him," he tried lamely. A flimsy defense, on his part.

She was shaking her head, "You cheated on me," she repeated stubbornly, "Jesus Logan, I told you to trust me!"

"I do. I did."

"Well obviously not enough seeing that you were off bedding hookers!"

"They weren't hookers," was his reply. His rather offended reply, "I don't need to pay girls to have sex with me."

She scoffed, "Nope, just to keep their mouths shut. But clearly, seven-hundred dollars isn't enough these days to stop sorority bimbos from telling everyone in the study she couldn't make it to dinner last night because she was off screwing Logan Huntzberger in the backseat of his car," she got up to leave, "Good bye Logan."

He didn't stop her from leaving. He didn't even wince when she slammed the door on her way out. It had an odd sense of finality to it. A breathe of fresh air from being tied down so long. There was really only one conclusion he could draw from this: Paranoid and possessive was an ugly color on him.

**(A/N: Tried to write something angsty. Didn't exactly turn out too screamo emo, but I got the general idea down. And just for the record, I have nothing against Logan. He's a really cool guy and I'm sure he wouldn't cheat on Rory but I had to tweak his character a little bit to make it work. So please don't hurt me, leave your pitchforks at home.)**


End file.
